Fools
by ginger pocahontas
Summary: Meetra needs to leave the Ebon Hawk and join Revan, but not before contemplating her relationship with Atton, and who he truly is. Dark sided Atton, emphasis on her thoughts and feelings. oh yeah KOTOR in case you hadn't realised by now. R&R if you want.


Note: So this is sort of an evil Atton:* which i hated to do because yknow i love him, but...:) also i know this progresses kind of quickly. but it was meant to show how volatile dark sided Atton is.

so the exile is still in love with revan also. i don't know where it came from but, enjoy:)

Meetra's heart was broken.

It wasn't as if he'd done anything wrong. No. He was fine. Good even. But like Kreia had said, Atton Rand was a fool, and he was exactly reason her heart was breaking, all over again.

Many years had passed since she had loved another. She wasn't entirely sure she'd stopped loving him. _Revan_. He was her past; her present; her future. Growing up together, she realised now that she had always loved him. He was so charismatic, so charming, so handsome. So willing to help people back then. He wanted to save the galaxy. And she'd been stupid enough to believe him, that foolish little girl with her head filled with thoughts of love; the girl who had never known what it was like to feel true pain, but who thought she knew it all.

Maybe that was why she had gone begging back to the Council. She thought they'd fix all her problems, but they lay so much deeper than anybody knew. It wasn't just the scars that Revan had left behind, but those of war and loss. When she'd joined, she was a stupid teenage girl who wanted to rebel against her parents, who wanted to feel noticed and respected. And there it was. The attention seeking. Always wanting people to look at her, to see her – and not just her pretty face. To see the scars underneath, and heal them. But Malachor had rendered those scars unfixable, and the dream of waiting for her true love to ride in on his silver ship was reduced to nothing many years ago.

And she was so confused now. Atton reminded her so much of Revan, thought their personalities were completely different. Atton was so dangerous; so volatile, so prone to lighting up like a firework at the slightest prod. She hardly knew anything about the man, and it hurt. He didn't talk about his past, whatsoever and she understood that guilt played a large role in that, but it seemed so much darker. He'd once told her he'd got a pleasure from killing Jedi, and it disturbed her. Because he'd hunted her - that was the reason he'd been on Peragus. She'd figured it out, early on, his guilt shining through like a beacon in the dark. She needed him, but she understood one fatal part of him: ultimately, he would kill her one day. Physically, or mentally it didn't matter, but he would. He shouldn't weald the power he did with his personality, so prone to the darkness and rage in his past consuming him.

At first she had believed she could change him. Help him; heal him; love him. And Meetra knew that he loved her. But she wasn't sure she knew how to love. Not anymore. She couldn't give him what he needed – just like Revan had done to her, all those years ago. She was still the immature girl, who toyed with the idea of love as something beautiful and amazing, despite knowing it was harsh and painful.

Atton was different. He loved her, but he hunted her too. Preyed on her. He wanted to protect her, but it was more a feral instinct that a genuine feeling. He was so angry, so messed up, so obviously laden with his own scars. She'd seen one along his back when they'd been lying in bed one night, covering his shoulder blade. He'd opened up for once, explained about a Jedi he once loved, but had killed. The scar had been given to him in their lightsaber fight, just before he'd watched the light leave her eyes. Atton had clammed up again afterwards, refusing to say anymore, refusing to even acknowledge his past.

Because that's what people with a terrible past did. The brave moved on. The fools buried it, so deep inside themselves that they forgot it. And the weak let it consume them, let their deeds rule their lives forever. She couldn't understand the weak. Of course, she'd gone back to the Council for forgiveness. But it wasn't out of weakness. Meetra had never forgotten, or buried her past, but rather kept it. She'd never be able to forget the anguish, pain and suffering she'd felt as she'd used the Mass Shadow Generator, and beneath her, Malachor had burned. She'd felt every single one of those people die, the weight of thousands on her conscience.

The pain she'd felt had made her stronger, in a way. She could never allow herself to go back to that place, to allow herself to freely think that killing thousands – millions even had been a good decision. It had been a strategic one, but a decision that should never have been allowed.

She remembered Revan had agreed with her. God, that day was so twisted. He'd sent his finest men, only those loyalist to him, because he knew what was going to happen. Knew what he was going to condemn them too. They'd watched from the skies above, as she pressed the button, not knowing then the consequences. That day had cut her off from Revan, as she finally realised exactly what she had done. And he'd stood there, as she left, not caring or understanding, maybe because there was no love left in his blackened heart.

And Atton was exactly the same. So bitter and twisted, so ruled by his past, but he'd never show it. He kept a façade of being witty and cynical, but his true personality was hidden, a monster under the bed – always lurking, but never coming out unless you looked. She'd looked, many a time. She'd seen the anger brewing, the pain of years and years of silence. Sometimes he managed to talk. Others, he left. A few times he'd snapped. That's what worried her.

Looking at him now, asleep in the pilot's chair, she knew what she was going to do. What she was going to condemn herself to. She would follow Revan, now that Kreia and the Sith were gone. Because he'd been right about the threat, but she'd been too innocent, too doe eyed to look any further than what was in front of her.

She sat beside Atton, and breathed heavily. He shifted in his sleep, and slowly his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled.  
"Hey beautiful," he said, flirtatiously, ignoring the look on Meetra's face. Now wasn't the time. Or maybe he just didn't notice it?

"We need to talk."

His suggestive face dropped, to reveal the blank slate he had become.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to leave. It's complicated but… All those years ago, Revan was right. I just didn't listen. And I need to go now, before the galaxy is… Y'know."

"Now I don't 'know.'" He was angry now, his temper rising. "All I can see is a little girl running off to find her long lost boyfriend."

She twitched with rage, so furious he had brought it up. "You've been reading my thoughts again, haven't you? What the hell?"

"Sure I've been reading your thoughts. You think about him enough. About whether you made the right decision, whether you should've followed him, whether he loved you. It makes me sick."  
"No Atton, what's sick is your excuse for love, when all you give is bitterness and emptiness."

"You're one to talk. You are obsessed with a man who left you – a man didn't care about you then and never will."

She felt her heart drop then, this man who she loved, speaking as though he hated her. In fact, she was almost certain in some moments that he did hate her. When he let his mask slip, she could see the cruel interior underneath, could feel his contempt for the good things she did. She could see the jealousy in his eyes whenever she spoke to Mical, the slow fury steadily building. And now this. Hitting her where it hurt most, because he could. To see the pain in her eyes, to watch as she crumbled beneath him. It was as though she was one of his Jedi, one of the people he'd murdered long ago. And she was, in a way. This pleasure he got now, from seeing her break was the same one he'd got when he'd executed them.

"Don't Atton. I'm leaving. You can think what you want, but I don't love Revan. I love you, even though your breaking me in half with all your anger and problems. Problems I can't fix, and I don't think you can either. Like that scar on your shoulder, these things are going to stay with you forever. And I'm sorry. Sorry I'm not different to all those other people you've killed. But this is bigger than loving you and hating you. This is about the galaxy, about something I should've done a long time ago. I let the past rule me like you, and I see now. It's so clear…" She breathed slowly, squaring up to the rage in his eyes and kissing him lightly. His pain didn't leave, his eyes blazing with the vehemence of a madman. This wasn't him. But it was. And that was the problem, she'd fallen in love with an image, and too late did she see the truth underneath.

"You can't leave." It wasn't a request, but an order. "I won't let you." And she realised she'd gone too far, as he began to Force Choke her, and she could no longer breathe. She considered seeing how long it would last, see how far it would go, but it was different. He'd kill her, because he could. Then he'd regret it, and bury it, another problem added to his past.

She did what she'd promised she'd never do then, and invaded his mind. All his deepest secrets and fears, all those things he'd tried to lock away, spilling out, like paper in the breeze. She kept eye contact, all the while, reading the images and memories before her, just as he did. And finally he let go, panting and exhausted, a shell of the man he'd been just seconds before. He grabbed her, and hugged her, deeply and softly.

She let him, because it was what he needed. Because she'd leave, and break his heart. And maybe she would come back. But she'd never be the same.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his heart every bit as broken as hers.

"I know." She replied, accepting him and who he was. He would always be a murderer, always kill. He'd been the fool, burying his past so deep it threatened to kill him from within. It would have, if it weren't for the fact he was already dead.

She turned, and left the cockpit, wandering to her quarters and sitting heavily down on the bed. Sighing, she wondered how she always ended up with the same men. And she realised slowly, that it was her. She was the fool, not Atton, that silly little girl who dreamed of love, the girl who'd never grown up.


End file.
